The Seducer

8

“Will you have some tea now?” Madelaine asked.

Brad looked up from the book he was reading. It was a dull book, he thought, but even the dullness was pleasant, something he badly needed after the stormy session with Cornelia and the trying television session in the morning.

It had been altogether a pleasant afternoon, a welcome change of pace, and he had spent most of it doing exactly what he was now doing, sitting before his living room fireplace, in which there was a small wood fire, reading sporadically the agreeably dull book.

“Is it time?” he said.

“It’s nearly five.”

“Really? It doesn’t seem possible. Saturday afternoons at home always pass so quickly. A characteristic, I suppose, of all good times and things.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“What? Oh, yes. The tea. I believe I’ll have a cocktail instead, if you don’t mind.”

“I suggest that you don’t. We’re going to the picnic party at the Nortons later, you know, and you’ll have something there.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “I’d forgotten about the party. To tell the truth, I would prefer to go right on forgetting it. Those damn backyard affairs of old Norton’s are terrible bores. Besides, it’s getting too late in the year for outside parties. We’ll all freeze our tails.”

“I hardly think so. The temperature’s mild enough, even in the evening, and there will be a fire. Anyhow, most guests appear to enjoy Dr. Norton’s backyard parties. I rather enjoy them myself.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your pleasure. We’ll go of course.”

“I should hope so. You can hardly afford to be cavalier with the head of your department,” she reminded him tartly.

“You think not? I doubt that old Norton has much influence left where it counts. No matter, though. I’ll have the tea, as you suggested.”

“If you prefer the cocktail, I’ll mix it. A Martini?”

“No. You’re quite right about it. I’d better have the tea.”

“All right. I’ll have to make it myself. The maid is off this afternoon.”

She turned away from the window against which she had been standing and crossed the room to a door opening into a hall that led back to the kitchen.

Watching her go, Brad gave due credit to her fine figure and the practiced grace of her movements, which had been learned early and never lost. The dress she was wearing was very expensive, he thought, far more expensive than she could have worn if they were living on his salary. But he did not resent this. On the contrary, he fully approved it.

A man of his own appearance and position needed an impressive wife at any cost, and it surely made matters much easier if he didn’t have to pay the cost himself. It was a pity, really, and perhaps not entirely her fault, that she was, like old Norton’s backyard brawls, such a bore. Actually, his feeling for her nowadays was somewhat more positive than mere boredom. It had in it a core of animus that might easily, sufficiently incited, become hatred.

He got up and walked over to the window that Madelaine had left, holding his book folded upon an index finger. Looking across the side yard to the box hedge that separated them from their neighbor, a botanist of considerable repute, he wondered what in the devil he was to do about Cornelia, for it was certain that something had to be done as quickly and quietly as possible.

Well, he wasn’t seriously worried about her, so far as that went. He was positive that she wouldn’t kick up a public fuss and ruin her own career at Peermont, as well as his. But it was possible that she might do something covertly that was calculated to smear him in some way while leaving her untouched. He wondered if she would. Or if she could, if she would. He doubted it. She was, after all, a mature woman, much too sophisticated and intelligent to create a sticky mess over an affair that had been mutually conceived and, until recently, rather pleasantly conducted.

Oh, she would certainly make things difficult when it came to a break. She had already demonstrated that. After a while, however, she would accept it amiably enough, and later on she would probably even convince herself that it was she who had decided to make the break for her own good.

Reassured, aware of a vacancy that Cornelia, in his mind, had already left, he began to think of Maggie. Thinking of her caused his lips to slip into the shape of a slight smile, developing dimples.

She was an odd and intriguing little devil, he thought. She possessed, somehow, a unique quality that made her different from anyone he had ever known before. Puzzling and exciting and somewhat disturbing. What was it?

He stood and tried to think what it was until Madelaine returned, carrying a silver service, and then he turned away, walking back to his chair and pulling it a little forward so that he could reach, sitting, the low table on which the service sat.

“Did you watch the television session this morning?” he inquired.

“No. I have no interest in mathematics. You know that.”

“Of course. I thought you might have watched out of general interest. Merely to see how I did and all.”

“I’m sure you did very well. You always do. The truth is, I slept right through it.”

“It’s an ungodly hour. I wonder sometimes if anyone watches. It will be a relief to be finished with it.”

“As I’ve said before, I’ve had an idea that you rather enjoyed your weekend trips to the city,” she murmured, her eyes oddly intent upon him.

“Not at all. They’re a terrible nuisance. What on earth makes you persist in such an idea?”

“It was just an impression I got. Is your tea strong enough?”

“Just right. Isn’t this a different brand from the one we’ve been using?”

“Yes. Do you like it as well?”

“Better. Much better.”

“I’ll tell Wanda to continue ordering it.”

They finished their tea in silence, she one cup and he two, a pair of distinguished-looking people staring into the small fire and forming together a pretty picture of lush domestic contentment.

When Brad finally replaced his cup on the silver tray, emptied the second time, she took from a deep pocket in her skirt something that appeared to be an envelope, which in fact it was, and tapped it against the knuckles of her left hand, watching him the while with perfect composure.

“I have something here that I think will interest you,” she said.

“What is it? It looks like a letter.”

“That’s what it is. At least it came in this afternoon’s mail.”

“From someone I know?” he asked idly.

“No. Actually, it’s not precisely a letter at all. It’s a report.”

“Report? What kind of report? About what?”

“I think it would be simpler and save time if I were to read it to you. It’s quite short. Do you mind listening?”

“Not in the least. If you’ve been trying to arouse my curiosity, I must say that you’ve succeeded.”

“Very well, then. I’ll just skip a few lines at the beginning and get right to the part I want you to hear.”

She removed a single sheet of paper from the envelope and unfolded it to its full 8½ X 11 size. There was a letterhead at the top that he couldn’t read at a distance, and the typewritten contents indicated a business character rather than a social one.

He was already beginning to feel a little uneasy, and as she began to read crisply and unemotionally for about three minutes that seemed like three hours, he sat fixed in his chair in the beginning of hatred, the incited animus stirring and boiling and welling in his throat to make him sick.

“ ‘Professor Cannon,’ ” she read, “ ‘arrived at his hotel at nine o’clock. He was checked into room 515 and went immediately up. At 9:27 he came down and went into the cocktail lounge. He sat at the bar for approximately twenty minutes, during which time he had one dry Martini and engaged in conversation with a lady who sat at his left. This was clearly a chance encounter. He has never been observed in the lady’s company before. The conversation was clearly casual.

“ ‘At 9:50 Miss Cornelia York, reference all prior reports, came into the lounge. She had earlier checked into room 607, same hotel, at 8:17. Professor Cannon moved with her to a table, where they had three Martinis apiece and engaged in conversation for more than an hour. Operator was not in position to overhear the conversation.

“‘At 11:08 Miss York left the lounge and took the elevator to the sixth floor. Operator walked to the sixth floor and took a position from which the door to Miss York’s room could be observed. At 11:23 Professor Cannon approached the door and knocked. He was immediately admitted to the room.

“‘Operator remained in position until 2:00 A.M., in accordance with instructions pertaining to this and prior operations. At that time, Professor Cannon had not yet left the room. Movements of principals were basically identical with movements reported in all prior operations. Implications are clear. Please inform if you want further observations or actions in this case.’ ”

She refolded the paper and returned it to the envelope, leaning forward to place the envelope on the silver tray beside her cup. Then she sank back again in her chair to cross her knees and observe Brad with a quiet, expectant smile, as if she were awaiting his comments on something she considered very amusing, if not very important.

He wasn’t deceived or reassured by this appearance of restraint, however. He recognized its deadliness. Rising suddenly, he walked to the window and looked out and came back. He was not aware of this movement, and never remembered afterward having made it.

“You had me followed,” he said bitterly. “You had me followed by a cheap private detective.”

“Not so cheap, darling,” she countered, her voice dry and mocking. “Quite expensive, as a matter of fact. And, as you can see, exceedingly competent. He really writes quite a literate and lucid report, don’t you think? One would hardly expect it of a detective, would one?”

“I would hardly have expected it of you. To resort to such sordid tactics!” Brad’s face was ridged and suddenly ominous and unpleasant.

“Sordid? Darling, in the face of what you are and what you’ve been doing, do you actually have the temerity to accuse me of being sordid? Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps you would be astonished to know what I can be and what I can resort to when it becomes necessary. You had better think about it.”

“Would it do any good to tell you that this business with Cornelia is finished, and that I wish to God it had never begun?” he ventured.

“Oh, it’s finished, all right. I don’t need your assurance for that. At least it had better be, if you know what’s good for you. To tell the truth, I’m not greatly disturbed by your silly affair. Chances are that I would have ignored it if you hadn’t become so stupidly blatant about it.

“You see, darling, I know perfectly well what kind of man you are, and I accept you as that and nothing more. I would leave you free to make as big a fool of yourself as you pleased if it were not for the incidental danger of your making a fool of me, too.”

“I see. Thank you very much. I suppose, then, that you wish to divorce me on innocuous grounds. Mental cruelty or some such. Very well. I’ll not contest it.”

“Oh, no. If I were going to divorce you, it would surely be on grounds of adultery, and I would do my best in any other way I could to ruin you. Do you see how vindictive I can be when I feel inclined? However, don’t worry about it. I don’t wish to divorce you on any grounds whatever. If you have any such notion, you’re greatly mistaken.

“The business with Cornelia is finished. I’ll accept your word for that, and if it isn’t, I’ll soon find out about it. Other than that, darling, it isn’t so much what I will do as what you will do, and I will tell you what it is. When Dr. Norton retires, which will be soon, you will become head of your department at the college. That’s established. Later, in a reasonable time, you will become president. That’s also established.

“In the meanwhile, you will revert to the dull business of being my husband, and you will give it your full attention. For my part, inadequate as I may be, I promise to try to satisfy your reasonable needs to the best of my ability. These are the things that you will do, as I have planned. If you wish to consider the alternative to them, I shall be glad to tell you exactly what it is. I don’t think you do, however. It’s not pleasant.”

All the while Madelaine spoke her voice remained cool, precise and reasonable. Her very blandness and composure were maddening.

“Is that all you have to say?” he asked.

“Every word. I hope that I have made myself perfectly clear.”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. We understand each other, then, and can forget this unfortunate episode.” She stood up, smoothing her skirt over her hips. “I believe I’ll just leave the tea things here. Wanda can remove them later. I’m going upstairs now and lie down a while before the party. Don’t be late in getting ready. And don’t neglect to dress warmly enough. You had better wear a sweater under your jacket.”

She went out, and Brad sat down, staring into the fire, to consider the conditions of his probation. They were, however, too depressing to consider at length, and so, after a few minutes, he began to think again of Maggie McCall.